#its about how he is willing to die for her

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

For All Eternity

So much for the planned fic...anyways here you all go, some angst with fluff and comfort at the end!

Summary: Astarion gets badly injured and you nurse him back to health.

The fight started like any other fight usually did, with you doing all you could to avoid one until there was no other option, and then Karlach would happily charge in, swinging her mighty axe to cut the enemies down. Astarion would hide in the shadows, waiting for the perfect opportunity to put a bolt through flesh and you would incinerate whoever was left standing from afar while Shadowheart supported everyone from the backline.

Unfortunately, today’s fight turned out differently. A deurgar had spotted Astarion and went straight for the vampire, bringing its greatsword down to cleave through undead flesh. A cry slipped from Astarion’s lips, alerting you and your companions to what had just happened. Karlach immediately went to work clearing a path to him for you, hacking and slashing at any duergar who came close whilst you ran, faster than you’ve ever run before with the Weave crackling at your fingertips, ready to be unleashed.

Astarion barely manages to roll out of the way of the next blow, hissing when his injured shoulder makes contact with the hard ground and staggers to his feet. He can feel the blood flowing down, seeping through his fingers as he tries to staunch the bleeding to no avail. He messily dodges the next attack but the third connects once more, this time tearing open his thigh. He collapses against the stone wall behind him, painting it red with his blood and he wonders if it’s possible for a vampire to die of blood loss. He’s definitely never heard of one going out in such a way. The thought that he might be the first one to do so brings a sardonic smile to his face, at least he’d go out in a special way.

The duergar snarls in victory and swings again, ready to end the fight when a fireball flies out of nowhere, incinerating it before its blade can land.

“Astarion!” He vaguely hears you call. His vision is getting blurry, he can barely see the charred corpse of the duergar in front of him and he starts to get a little worried. Was he going to die right in front of you? That would be a terrible way to go. You’d cry until you had no more tears left to give, that pretty face of yours all scrunched up and tear-stained. He didn’t like that thought, he’d want you to not be around when he died, he couldn’t bear the thought of seeing the hurt he’d caused you by dying.

“Astarion!” Your voice is louder now. You must be close, maybe right in front of him but he can barely see, with black spots eating up more and more of his vision.

“Astarion, look at me! Don’t die on me!” He wonders how shit he looks right now, with his own blood all over him. His armour must be painted in his own crimson liquid, a sorry sight to be certain. For a moment, he wishes you weren’t here to see him in such a state but then the fresh scent of your blood floods his nostrils and all he can think about is how hungry he is.

Instinctively, he opens his mouth and lets the blood in, swallowing every drop that comes his way. He hears you let out a sigh of relief and you swim into view as his body heals itself back up with the aid of your blood that is now coursing through his veins.

“Y/N,” he says tiredly, sending you a grin even as his body struggles to keep upright.

“You scared me,” you breathe, wrapping your arms around him.

“I’m a vampire spawn, I’m supposed to scare you.” Even when exhausted, the snark never stops.

“Not you though.” You whisper into his ear, burying your face into his hair. “I’m so relieved I got to you in time.”

“Me too,” he murmurs, feeling his eyelids close. Your embrace feels nice as always, warm, soothing, filled with so much love and care that he starts to slip into unconsciousness, spurred on by his body’s demands to rest and recover.

“Astarion?” He hears the slight panic in your voice. He wills his mouth to open, to reassure you with his honeyed words that everything is alright and he’s just going to take a nap but his mouth refuses to cooperate. His body feels heavy, keeping anything open takes everything he has and he’s losing this fight.

“Astarion please, stay awake, stay with me!” He can hear you beg, beg for him to open his eyes, to look at you, to say something. He does, he really wants to do all those things but his damn body won’t cooperate, and suddenly, he’s seized by this fear that he may never see you again, never feel your touch again, never hear your laugh again.

No. No. He will not let that happen. He can’t lose you, he hasn’t taken his revenge on Cazador yet, he hasn’t told you that he loves you yet, he can’t just roll over and die. Still, his body shuts down and he feel his consciousness slipping away. Fear grips his heart as he struggles against the exhaustion but in the end, he loses.

“Astarion!”

When he next opens his eyes, new scents flood his nose. He can smell medicine, residual blood and…

Something brushes against his arm, causing him to turn his attention to whatever it was at his side. A messy mop of hair obscures the figure’s face but he knows its you, how could he not? All those nights spent running his fingers through that mop of hair, sweat and saliva exchanged, he knew you inside and out, just like how you knew him to the same degree.

He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. His throat refuses to produce the sound, demanding instead for sustenance, for blood.

“Astarion, you’re awake.”

He never gets tired of the way his name rolls off your lips. He could listen to it all day but you’d probably get bored of doing that for a whole day so he settles for simply listening to your voice all day instead.

You slice open your wrist, pressing the wound to his lips and he drinks from it thirstily, swallowing huge gulps at a time. The liquid washes down his throat, wetting it and sends new waves of energy surging through his body, breathing life back into it.

Its at this point he usually stops drinking, ensuring you didn’t die from blood loss but you don’t pull away, neither do you show any sign of wanting him to stop. He stops anyways, not wanting to be the cause of your death and looks at you quizzically when you press the still bleeding wound to his lips once more.

“Drink,” is all you say, in a firm tone that leaves no room for discussion. He obliges, still worried about your health but then Shadowheart comes in with a tray of healing potions and you take a swig from one of them.

You really were going to keep yourself topped up by chugging healing potions.

Normally, Astarion would warn you against doing so but his body desperately wants blood, and you were willing to provide so he continues drinking, taking short breaks in between to ensure you didn’t suddenly collapse or anything. He didn’t want to face the wrath of the party members outside should he be the cause of your death, not that he wanted you to die from him drinking your blood in the first place.

At last, his hunger is satiated and he licks the wound, signalling that he has no more need of your blood for the time being. You withdraw your arm, finishing off the bottle of healing potion to allow the wound to close and turn back to face him, checking him over.

“I’m quite alright, darling. No need to fret.”

“Just checking.”

“Thank you for your concern, love, really, but would you be so kind as to not look at me as if I were on death’s door?”

“You were just moments ago!”

“If I recall correctly, being undead means I’m already dead. Therefore —”

“You had me worried sick! I thought you were going to die!” Tears prick the corners of your eyes. Astarion swallows whatever he was going to say, his mind racing through all the possible ways of consoling you.

“I…I…” The words lodge themselves in your throat, your saliva thick with tears as you struggle to put your jumbled thoughts into words.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you sob. “Back then, when I saw the duergar about to swing his sword down, all I could think about was that I didn’t want to lose you. I didn’t want you to leave me, I wanted you by my side, I wanted you with me.”

He holds you close, feeling your tears stain his clothes but he doesn’t care. He lets you cry, releasing all your pent up frustrations in one go and simply hugs you tightly.

“I’m…sorry, for worrying you,” he murmurs, the apology meant only for your ears. You bury your face deeper into his shoulder in response, fingers gripping tightly onto his shirt. He breathes in your raw scent, unearthed by your lack of a bath and whispers how much he loves you in all the ways he knows how without using the word ‘love’.

“Promise me, that you won’t pull such a stunt again?” You plead, looking into his ruby red eyes with your tear-stained ones.

“I promise, love. You will have me for all eternity.”

“And I promise too, that you will have me for all eternity.”

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion romance #astarion x durge #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion ancunin #tavstarion #durgestarion #astarion fluff #astarion fic #bg3 fluff #bg3 fic

[l1-b1]

This song and lloyd… ourgh my heart hurts

#this video is about lloyd not misako ! #when i posted this on tiktok i had multiple people try to argue that misako is a bad mother like that is not the topic here #its about lloyd its about lloyd reconnecting with the mother he was missing for most of his childhood #itsabout how much he loves her #its about how he looks like her its about how he talks like her #its about how he is willing to die for her #its about how he is terrified to lose her as he lost her once before and how he lost his father #and it’s about the grief of possibly losing her to the merge in dragons rising #being all grown up and taking on the responsibility of being there for Sora and Arin #and still missing his parents #this video is through the eyes of Lloyd #this video is about Lloyds connection to Misako throughout his life #anyway wow that ended up being longer than I expected #Lloyd garmadon #Lego ninjago #ninjago #ninjago fanart #Lego ninjago fanart #ninjago lloyd #lloyd garmadon fanart

[creative-hanyou-girl]

You guys know on how InuYasha, the few times he talks about it, badmouths his father and says he doesn't care to avenge his death when he battles Ryukoltsei?

I wonder if InuYasha starts to regret his mindset towards his father once he himself becomes a father. Or at the very least, he starts to understand his father better. Especially if you want to go by the Movie 2 canon where part of Toga's death was from protecting InuYasha and his mom.

Just makes me wonder if InuYasha looks at Moroha or any of his other children and has the thought that it'd break his heart if any of his kids felt resentment towards him like he felt for his own father, especially when everything he ever does is to protect them. And I wonder if it makes InuYasha start to look at his father's memory differently, now that he's a parent himself and would do anything and everything to protect his kids, even if it meant dying and leaving them without a father.

Not that he'd go and try to get himself killed, as he wants to actually be alive so they don't have to grow up like he did, but you know he'd sacrifice himself if it meant his children could live, just like his father did for him (according to movie 2).

I don't know, I just wonder if InuYasha starts to ever regret the way he looked at his father's memory back when he was a teen once he becomes a father to Moroha and starts to understand his father's actions as a parent now that he himself is a parent. Ya know what I mean?

#not that Inuyasha will ever have to worry about missing his daughter's life because nothing bad ever happens to break any of them apart #and the same for any other potential children he and Kagome has #its just a hypothetical #Yashahime? i don't know her #all I know is Teenage InuYasha vs. Papayasha #and how differently the 2 must have thought on the same topics #like their father. and how InuYasha felt so bitter or angry at his dad for leaving him in the name of protecting him #while simultaneously secretly yearning and missing the opportunity to know him #versus Papayasha who looks at Moroha & any other potential kids with the overwhelming understanding that they are his whole world #and he'd do anything to protect them. including laying down his life if it came down to it #& how he realizes that his father felt the same way for him & in that way Inu starts to understand his father in ways he didn't before #but he also understands how hard it is to survive without a parent esp. as a hanyou & refuses to let himself get killed battle- #-leaving Moroha and his other kids at the mercy of struggling in the world without his protection #so he resolves himself that. while he is willing to die for his kids. he must work even harder to STAY ALIVE for them above all else #so that they never have to grow up without him and wonder if he even cared or why he wasn't with them #the way he did with his own father #inuyasha #inukag #moroha #moroha higurashi #inukag child #inukag baby #inukag family #inu no taisho #inuyasha family #inuyasha movie 2 #inuyasha headcanons #inuyasha theory #post canon

[musubiki]

What were the Lime and Mochi/Coco and Taffy “oh….. OH” moments for the both of them?

OH GOD!!!!!!!!!! mochi and limes are harder to pin down.....i will try to speculate how i see it right now:

mochi @ lime: happened when they were younger, middle school maybe? up until that point her and lime would occasionally talk and were forced to walk home together, but were nowhere NEAR best friends. at some point mochi started getting bullied since she was so weird and quiet, lime stood up for her and got into a physical fight with the other kid. anyway afterwards, after they both got sent home my the principal, mochi was like "maybe he isnt so bad?" and the crush developed and RAPIDLY grew since after this they actually became friends for real

lime @ mochi: THIS ONE IS HARDER TO PIN DOWN!!!! theres no single moment, its a BUNCH of "yeah shes cute but i dont like her." "yeah shes nice and cool but i dont like her." "yeah i mean if she wanted to kiss we could i guess but i dont like her." over years and years slowly descending into madness,,,,.....the thing that started tipping him over the edge is RIGHT before the witch thing started, theres a night where she was staying with his family (in the webtoon, its right where we left off), and fell asleep with him where thats the first time he stayed and cuddled with her for the night. it started as "yeah yeah comfort mochi while shes crying and sad" but they both fell asleep, and when lime wakes up in the middle of the night to mochi snuggling into him he CAVES!!!!!! his whole mindset, within the span of like 10 minutes, starts shifting to "maybe mochi as a girlfriend isnt a bad idea.............................". in the morning he tries to rationalize himself out of it with "no way, im just touch starved. no way, i just need a girlfriend and would feel like this for any girl. no way, if i was gonna like her at all i wouldve liked her by now" and from then on its a constant battle of "god DAMN i want her bad" and "FUCK no shes my best friend, the fuck?!"

taffy @ coco: this moment happens relatively fast. basically, theres a period of a day or two while she is currently kidnapped by taffy who is trying to lure mochi out, but he has no intentions of hurting her or anything else beyond holding her there until mochi arrives. at some point he hurts himself (humerously) like fucking cuts his arm by accident on something and its PROFUSELY bleeding and he sees nothing wrong with that, probably says something like "Its just blood." coco, who is absolutely about to vomit, rips a sleeve off her jacket and wraps his arm with it and taffy is instantaneously confused, shocked, and emotionally attached. this man does not experience kindness regularly. any time after this when he runs into her at random times he is NERVOUS. (he hold onto that ripped sleeve for like. forever. after he joins the guild coco is like "why do you still have that?!! did you at least get the blood out?????" and hes just silently protectively sentimental about it)

coco @ taffy: for coco, there is ALSO not a single moment, its a slow and growing process of learning who he is and what he is and how she can help him. its probably one of those things where you spend so much time with someone you care about so much emotionally, and then one day (during the timeskip when theyre living together, he just comes back from his day job and walks in the door and coco realizes shes in love with him (this is long after she already knows he loves her like crazy)

#ive been thinking about coffy today #how much he is willing to just die for her #even when she doesnt return his love at first hes still just (I dont care. Ill love you forever i dont care just let me stay by your side) #coco is a special girl #everyone wrote off taffy so fast except for her. including mochi #lime coming in hot with the (its stockholm syndrome) #and coco has no response because sure i guess it might be #(but he did save me.) #he did. during the first fight with mochi he lost because he saved coco instead of fighting mochi #and coco from that alone knows hes not an absolutely horrible person

[todayisafridaynight]

Bro last night was so much......... I'm still reeling...... What even.... They gave us so much. I wasn't ready. I wasn't ready. I didn't KNOW.

Hear me out... Poundmates Jo........ Not a party member but maybe helpful. Him looking soft has me so fucked up. Why is Akane alive. Why is she alive bro. Why does Jo know she alive. Why would he- FUCK dude I'm trying to work but all I can think about is 8

i hope we get poundmates jo and we have to do it pokemon style where we have to beat his ass and then catch him <- delusional

#snap chats #SOOOO many questions.... #we were all right akane IS In Fact a bamf for slipping away from the yakuza #why do i feel like she's going to die tho. women dont last long in this franchise and if they do its a miracle #but idk no woman died in y7.... auspicious things me thinks... #please ichi cant lose anyone else. tho i am sus of jo's longevity if solely just because of ttm's career goals... #i mean if jo was willing to research arakawa its only logical he'd stumble upon akane and info about her so #jo's morality is weird. he was cool with putting a baby in a locker but the second he realizes the consequences he spends his life atoning #tho that kids gone now aint it.... guess he's trying to mend the damage he did to akane and ichi ?? #or at the very least wants to try to make up for the fact ichi didnt get to be raised by arakawa because of his dumbass #idk i dont know how his brain works we'll just have to see !!!!

[lepidopteragirl]

how do you feel about tom soap. i want to know all of your thoughts i want to hear your succession meta

um. um. thes. my best friend thes my bestest friend in the whole wide world. i uh. well. um. to steal lucy's words this is. well this is like opening a can of worms if by which you mean a can of worms is actually a portal to hell. um. worlds shortest answer is that he made shivsad and well for that alone i think he should be killed with rocks.um

#this is. well this is like if someone asked u why you hate *!***t. there is so much and well i would have to spoil s3 for you #um. put a pin in it and we can come back to this. perhaps #longer more srs thoughts that i can give u w/out spoiling too much tho. i do think tom is a super interesting character #and so funny very funny character #but i also just do not like him partially for reasons some of which r valid and some of which are shivolo demons #and i cut him way less leeway w how he acts next to the roy siblings bc. he did not grow up one of logans children. you have no excuse budd #like. when those three exhibit Behaviors its very tragic i think. kendall roman shiv are desperate for power and cutthroat and nasty #in pursuit of their dads approval bc they were raised to do that. logan taught them to do that from childhood. its all they know #but like. tom isnt. he married shiv out of equal parts love for her. and love for her last name #and is willing to be just as nasty in pursuit of power but he just is like this. no reason #also i just find it supremely tragic that shiv married tom to distance herself from her father and tom married shiv to get closer to him #it kills me forever and i am a shivgirl until i die #SORRY this was perhaps not what you were looking for sorry sorry #ty for asking me about it tho i had fun FKDSA<3 #ty for the ask!!! <333

[good-beans]

(actually I would love to see your clive/fernand theory post if you do ever feel like finding it!)

Ah, I see you've found it already -- sorry if it was disappointing, I definitely remembered there being more theory to it 😅 I had this line addition too, but maybe it was in my mind like that because someone read the post then felt the need to tell me it was just brotherly love, and from then on I kept an extra eye out for evidence that proved then wrong lol...

#im sure its nothing new to you but at the time i was like 'why is no one talking about this its so obvious??' 😂 #just the fact that they built up this whole bond between everyone and then he was willing to let mathilda die #it felt weird unless he hated her That much from jealousy #and how several characters joined an army out of love for another and fernand specifically admitting to joining only for clive #rip i definitely thought it was a more detailed post but ah well #thanks for the interest though :') #ask #fe echoes

[newspecies]

hi. im normal about books. now everyone go read Lone Women by Victor LaValle

#rot.txt #personally i dont think it works super well as HORROR (despite being labeled as such on libby) but god its good. #okay spoilers now. the reeds being so performative makes me crazy #jerrine talks of women dressing as men to join a war but the moment she meets a “girl” dressed as a boy living as a boy she loses her mind #also from a writing perspective i liked how even after sam is outed the narrative still doesnt misgender him #hes still a boy. jerrine thinks hes a girl and put him in a dress but hes still a boy #the reeds being all “this town is a family!” but are so willing to slaughter all the people they dont want there at the drop of a hat #jack calling fiona a SLUR and barely realizing that its wrong. he only backs down because he knows fiona and bertie could beat him up #and like. him not stopping joab from killing delmus. the stranglers. they killed those wolfers without any proof of their crime #both of them put on this face of being perfect and kind but the moment theyre faced with something a little different they have to kill it #literally. #i was going to end it there but chapter 61 is making me abnormal. joab being faced with sam knowing this nine year olds mother #is being hanged in the building next door. so soon after strangling his brother and seeing his own mother die at the claws of a demon #and knowing his other brothers were picked off by the same demon. ough. and dont even get me started on elizabeth #im not done yet so i dont know but i was thinking elizabeth is a metaphor for disability being “shameful” to the family #and how family members face difficulty taking care of a disabled loved one and are blinded to said loved ones own struggles #adelaide does basically say this ^ to elizabeth. she was so caught up being angry about the isolation #that she didnt think about how elizabeth felt about the same thing but WORSE. at least adelaide had parents #elizabeth just had jailers #and yes elizabeth has killed and eaten several people (and horses) but what else can she do? what else has she been offered? #god. between the time i started this and now i finished the book LKDSJFDS #anyway its about adults failing children and the marginalized standing together and believing each other #the end was great. i loved how the Lone Women werent really alone at the end. they found a place to be happy and safe #as much as i like miserable endings this one was sweet. i liked it #i have more to say but these tags are long enough

[alstroemerian-dragon]

the tough thing about writing realistic narrative conflict is that. when there aren’t larger sweeping stakes, something like 80% of narrative conflict is predicated on miscommunication or the withholding of information, big or small. and as someone who is both fairly autistic and well trained in conflict resolution, my brain is screaming “WHY DO THEY NOT SIMPLY DISCUSS THINGS OPENLY!!!!!!”

its something im practicing but BOY its hard fkdhfjdhfjs. im having to go “okay what would i say in this situation. now. would this character actually admit that? no. fuck. okay how can i hint towards it without them straight up saying it”

#personal #its an awkward balance to have especially with particular characters #its not necessarily an issue when im writing hajime #both because hes ALSO autistic. and because post shutdown (at least in my brain) hes much more blunt and straightforward #who give a shit about being polite or dancing around words when youre basically a war criminal right #now fuyuhiko is a balance to strike. because when talking to ANYONE ELSE he will say NOTHING about how he really feels unless hes pissed off #or really stressed and running his mouth on accident #now with hajime hes a lot more willing to Discuss Hard Things. however. there are still things he would Never Fucking Say. unless forced #and hajime will force it. eventually #akane is similar to hajime in that shes also very autistic and also just doesnt really care or pay attention to what other people think #but she also has a hard time tackling or discussing more intellectual topics solely because she just. doesnt get them. and also doesnt care #SHES NOT STUPID!!!!! SHE JUST DOESNT GIVE A SHIT ABOUT PHILOSOPHY OR WHATEVER AND THATS FINE #sonias an interesting one because. as a princess she has a LOT of experience talking around things #and so i think she does it just. habitually. pasting on a smile and a pleasant expression and everything is fine #but shes trying really hard to be more open because of hajime and the others. knowing these people are safe to just be her around #its hard bc she spent a year and a half being a military dictator acting on and forcing other people to act on her every sadistic whim #so now shes like ‘i have to be soooooo nice and never cause problems or i’ll die! i’ll simply die’ #now kazuichi. kazuichi would never admit any kind of shit under penalty of death #except for the fact that he can not keep his mouth shut to save his life #so whether he wants to or not he will say what he is thinking at the least opportune moment possible #okay i was gonna say more and i wrote it all out but i reached max tags without finishing #so im just not going to say any more <3 love and peace #i have the most experience writing these five but im slowly expanding #i need to get better at kyoko makoto and byakuya bc theyre vital to the first week of recovery #and i. unfortunately. do not care about the first game very much #so im kinda flying by the seat of my pants with them #i need to make byakuya MORE OF AN ASSHOLE. but in a somewhat affectionate way. bc hes had a little time to grow #but hes still. byakuya togami. so he is an Asshole. #i think ive got naegi down. kyoko’s proving the hardest

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈'𝐌 𝐀 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 (𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈'𝐋𝐋 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌) ❞

❝ WHAT HAPPENS YOU TAKE CARE OF NANAMI ALL YOUR LIFE -- AND HE DOES THE SAME FOR YOU ? ❞

✧ pairing: nanami kento x sorcerer!reader

✧ summary: throughout your years of jujutsu tech, you take care of kento, whether its a wound from a curse or a simple cut his finger -- and when he returns he finds you still ready to take care of him -- even after shibuya.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff, hurt / comfort w/ a happy ending, domesticity, jjk canon compliant au (because nanami is alive) reader is the same age as nanami, set during through the events of star plasma vessel to end of jjk, nanami getting hurt and reader taking care of him, reader gets a cold and nanami takes care of her, jealous! nanami, kitchen counter sex, soft dom! nanami, oral (f), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, swearing

✧ wc: 7,657

✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 3 has been sold to two anons!

“Show me,” Nanami furrows his brow in reply, jaw set as he glares, but he knew no amount of staring would get you to let this go. You stood in the doorway of his dorm room — your room was clear across on the other side where the girls resided, so he wondered for a split second how you knew he returned when it had barely been an hour, but answered his own question without having to utter a word (Haibara). 

“It’s not bad. It’ll heal by itself—“ and you’re shaking your head, and his lips purse, “it really isn’t worth speaking to Ieiri about — it’s not a wound, just a bruise—“ 

But still you stood, as immovable as ever — and he finally relented, unbuttoning his jacket, as he shrugged it off, unable to hide his wince as he revealed the large bruise that colored his skin in red, his skin peeling and angry, and surely would turn into a lovely mish-mash of purple and blue. 

You brush past him into the dorm room, as you brought a first aid kit in, setting it on the bed, turning your head before tilting it as if to say, “well?” 

He repents, as he always did with you — he knew a battle of wills with you was as unwinnable as a battle of jujutsu with Gojo — not to mention needlessly frustrating. He sat at the edge of his bed, eyes fixed to the floor, as you grabbed a washcloth from the kit, heading for his bathroom. He hears the sounds of water running, and the squeak of the faucet closing. 

You return as you lift his arm slightly, rolling up the sleeve of his t-shirt to his shoulder. 

Your touch is gentle — Nanami was always surprised at how gentle you always were. With the line of work you all did, it was easy to be rough, to find smooth edges corroded and jagged, but no, you remained as smooth and soft as you always were. 

He flinches when you bring the wet washcloth to raw skin, and you’re careful even as you seemingly pick out pieces of gravel and dirt stuck in his flesh. And you frown at the sight of it, doing your best to clean every bit. 

“So what happened?” you ask, and he gives a terse chuckle. 

“Didn’t Haibara tell you?” And you shrug, “I know he told you we’re back,” and your lips curl ever so slightly as your eyes meet him, a small amount of mirth returning. 

“Maybe I’m just a stalker,” and he can’t bite back the small smile on his lips, “Haibara told me you didn’t go to Ieiri, and that you got hurt protecting him on your mission,” 

He sighed, rubbing the back of his head, “Ieiri was busy dealing with Haibara, he got it worse than I did—“

“Even if your injury is less serious, it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t look after yourself,” and he sighs, as his eyes slide to you, “you need to learn to care about yourself, Nanami,” 

And he knew you were right on some level — he didn’t have a delusion of invincibility and he also didn’t have a strong enough desire to strive to be stronger, but — his fingers grasp at his sheets —that didn’t mean he wanted to see his friends die. “You don’t have to do this,” he says again, and you don’t meet his gaze when he looks over at you, your brow set in concentration, “it’s not important—“ 

“Nanami, you don’t ever seem to value yourself properly,” you finish cleaning his arm, before grabbing bandages and tape from the kit, “you are important — even if you don’t think you are,” 

And he opens and shuts his mouth — before a smile pulls at his lips — you were far too kind, especially for a jujutsu sorcerer. 

And then you add, “and if you don’t get your wounds tended to, I’m going to tell Gojo you want to take a sweets tour of Tokyo,” 

…maybe he spoke too soon. 

~~~~

“How did you manage to hurt yourself so badly during training?” You offer Nanami a makeshift ice pack, a small cloth wrapped up with ice from his freezer, and his lips pursed in disgust as his reply, “ah, Gojo,” the mattress shifted under his weight as he sat, 

“That arrogant idiot,” Nanami grumbled, as he pressed the ice pack to the back of his head, “his excuse was that he didn’t know his own strength — he’s lucky that he had infinity or I would have—“ 

You chuckle, “You know he’s just messing with you, it’s just because you react,” and he scowls at his floor of his room, as if his carpet was the six eyes sorcerer itself, “he’s not so bad—“ 

He raises an eyebrow, his mouth parted in disbelief, “Are you defending him right now?” And you chuckle, as you lean back against the side of his bed, your head leaning back against the soft comforter that you had bought him and guaranteed would help him sleep better (it only guaranteed that you would be asleep underneath it half the time they spent in his dorm relaxing). 

You wave him off, “Lower your blood pressure. I’m not defending him, I’m just saying, it can’t be easy being the strongest — all those eyes on you, the way people treat you, the—” 

“The weight of your overinflated ego that you have to carry around—” and you roll your eyes, and the action bites at his last nerve, because he thought if anyone would have his back, it would be you — the next words spit like venom out of his mouth, “I thought you were better than those girls that moon over Gojo,” 

And he regrets the words as they leave his lips, as you stare at him wordlessly — not with anger, but frustration — which hurts all the more, “If I was so in love with Gojo, then why am I with you instead of him?” He doesn’t have a reply as you rise to your feet and make your way out the door, the click of the door far too deafening, leaving him with a throbbing in his head — but not just from being hurt. 

His fingers curled tighter around the ice pack. Because why—why did the thought of you liking Gojo make his chest ache—the idea of your care and time spent on someone else, not even Gojo, but anyone else, made his stomach churn at the idea. 

He had told himself when he decided to become a sorcerer, he would do anything to avoid relationships — even friendships if he could do so. When you work a job like this, it can only end in disaster. but— his eyes slide to the closed door you had just left through. 

Why did this feel so much worse?” 

~~~

“You can’t stay here all night,” your voice cuts through the silence of the morgue — the only life left in the room. Because he too had died along with Haibara. 

Or rather he should have. 

He kept the towel over his eyes, unmoving from his chair, head resting back against the cold metal — as if it would protect him — from seeing Haibara sliced half over and over, last words dying on his lips said in pure chaos but somehow Nanami could still hear them ring in his ears— just as the sick crumple of his torso hitting the ground after being ripped from his body. The words leaving his lips as the last vestiges of life left his body, fingers twitching as his lips moved—

You got it from here. 

The hopeful optimism from a person seconds before death did little to comfort him. Not when that person should have been the one who lived. He had the one thing that was so rare in his shit world of jujutsu — kindness—

The very thing that left half his body lying against a metal slab.

“I can’t leave until…” he trails off, he didn’t wish to leave until his body was inspected and then taken to be…disposed of. He knew it was for the best that his body is turned to ash, but it made it no easier to consider the person that he knew to be his best friend would be nothing but ash in a few hours time, “I won’t leave him alone,” 

You nod, and the silence makes him wonder if you’re leaving, but instead he hears footsteps and the slight scraping of a metal chair against the floor. And he feels the slight brush of you beside him as you sit. 

And you don’t say a thing. The only thing is that your fingers brush his tentatively and when he doesn’t pull away you intertwine them. And that’s enough—for now. 

Until they take his body away. 

A sorcerer glances at the two of you, “Do either of you have contact with next of kin? We need to notify—“ 

“I’ll handle it,” Nanami says, the towel pulled away from his gaze, hoping his dark bags and red tinged eyes aren’t noticeable to you, but he sees the purse of your lips and knows they are. 

The sorcerer shifts, “Have you considered asking his family for—“ 

“That’s not an option,” Nanami cuts him off with a stare, and the sorcerer parts his mouth before shutting it again with a nod, “okay, please allow us to take his body,” 

And they do, pulling the sheet down ever so slightly that Nanami sees a flash of his face — no hint of that smile he always unfailingly had on his lips — it too was gone, just like he was. And they carefully wheel his body away — assumedly to be burned. And the door swings shut behind them — leaving only him and you. Silence hangs over the room, the finality of the moment leaves nothing in its wake but regret. 

And regret only felt hollow — just as his heart did. 

You choose to break the silence, a shaky sigh leaving your throat, as you quickly scrub tears away from your face, clearing your throat, “Come on, let’s go—”

“You can go ahead, I’m going to stay here for a while,” and your eyes try to find his own, but he still stares at the spot where Haibara’s body had laid for hours. The essence of cursed energy was almost too easy to understand compared to the concept of death — a person can be living, breathing, and talking one day to be nothing but a husk the next. And now, he knew it would be a lifetime of feeling as if something is missing — as if something was wrong — and moments where it felt fine would be overcome by only guilt and anger. 

What was the point of all of this? His fingers formed into fists, nails digging into his palms — were they nothing but pawns to be used in an unending game that forced sorcerers to not only to put their lives on the line, but their colleagues as well. A twisted game that only ended in a pile of corpses. 

“Nanami, you can’t stay here all night—” 

“I’m fine,” he rubs at his temples — and how long would it be until he’s staring at your body on that slab? Or maybe you’d be staring at his own—crying over his body just as he had done for Haibara, “you can go—” 

“I’m not leaving you, and you shouldn’t stay here — you need sleep—” 

“You don’t have to take care of me,” he snaps, his gaze meets yours, “I’m not injured, I didn’t even get hurt— ” 

“Yes you did,” you say quietly, as you step closer to him, but his eyes refuse to meet your own. 

“No—” and your hand finds his chest. 

“This pain is worse than any physical pain you could put in — and I wouldn't leave you to deal with a bruise by yourself, so what makes you think I’d leave you now?” you say softly, and tears burn at his eyes, as your hands gently pull him into your arms, his head buried against your chest, “I’m not leaving you, Nanami,” you murmur quietly, as your fingers slowly run through his hair. 

And you didn’t — he was the one who left you. 

~~~~

You never get sick. That’s what you loved to brag about — especially yesterday when you got home from spending an entire two days in the rain soaking wet and ice cold without a hint of cold symptoms. 

You supposed your bragging was a curse in and of itself because now you were buried under your comforter. You barely manage to text Shoko that you’re sick and you won’t be able to make it to class today. And now you had to wonder if it was worth the effort to get out of bed to take your medication or to simply sleep it off.

But your body made the choice for you as your eyes fluttered shut and you slipped into a fitful sleep, body burning from the inside out. 

Consciousness faded in and out, as you felt something brush against your forehead, your eyes heavy as they open ever so slightly, a flash of blue and blond, before you fall back into sleep. 

Your head aches, muscles heavy, and the smell of spices wafted through the apartment, “Are you finally awake?” a voice said, as your eyes flutter open, still burning at the corners as your head turns. 

“Nanami?” You croak out, throat raw and dry, as if your flesh was raked across coals, “what are you—“ 

He turns his head from your kitchenette — a ladle in hand, before he sets it down, wiping his hand with a dishcloth. And he steps over to your bed, pulling the washcloth from your forehead, before placing a cold washcloth, “your fever went down a little,” he said, “but I brought cold medicine and I made some soup for you,” 

“You didn’t—“ 

“Have to?” his lips quirked up, “I know I didn’t have to, I wanted to,”

“How did you know I was—“ and his eyes find yours, “Shoko,” and he nods, you relax back into your bed, “how long have you been here?” 

He turns back around to finish cooking the soup for you, stirring, the metal of the ladle slightly clinking against the sides of the pot, his eyes flicker to your clock, “About an hour and half, hasn’t been too long,” 

“Why are you taking care of me?” you mumble, glancing at his back, as he lifted the ladle to pour into a small bowl to taste the seasoning of the soup, “you don’t owe me anything—“

“I owe you a lot,” he cuts you off, the clatter of the bowl against the counter as he sets it down, the click of the stovetop as he shut it off, “but that’s not the reason I did it,” and your brow is furrowing under the washcloth, as he walks over to you, a smile tugging at his lips. 

“Then why?” 

And he raises an eyebrow, “Why do you think?” And his fingers brush your cheek, “you’re the only reason I’ve stayed here as long as I have, otherwise I would have left, a long time ago,” and you don’t know how it’s possible for your face to grow warmer but it does from his words and his touch that lingers against your cheek. 

And he’s gone as quickly as he came, going over to the stove to take out a bowl of soup for you to drink, “can you stay after I finish eating? Until I fall asleep?” You ask, as he brings the bowl over, as you sit up slowly, head spinning as you do still. 

“Of course,” and he does, staying by your side after you eat and take your medicine, hearing your quiet murmur, “thank you, Kento,” 

And he realizes, as his lips curl into a smile, fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, just how much he liked hearing his name on your lips. 

~~~

“How did you manage to hurt yourself on our last mission together as students?” you sigh, the worry in your voice making his lips curl — as the two of you had just found yourselves in his dorm room, as you rifle through his bathroom to pull out the first aid kit you had given him (after you had learned he didn’t own one). 

You return to him sitting on the edge of his bed, holding his hand up in such a way that he didn’t drip blood all over his sheets. Your fingers brush his own, and he’s still surprised at how soft your hands are. His hands had grown rough from the years of jujutsu, calloused from the grip of his fingers around his blade handle, but somehow, yours were always as soft as he remembered them. 

Your fingers found his, warmth blooming as your brow wrinkled as you scruntized the cut on his hand, “Maybe we should ask Shoko to look at it—” 

“There wasn’t any cursed energy that cut me — it was just—” 

“Debris, I know,” and this seemingly did little to soothe your worries,  had gotten when pushing you out of the way of the curse, “I had it handled — you shouldn’t have dove in—” 

“It’s fine, it’s not that bad—” but your glare cuts off his sentence, as you begin to clean the wound. 

You shake your head, “What am I going to do with you? Every time you go on a mission, I’m going to be worrying about what trouble you’re going to get yourself into,”

He’s silent, his eyes unable to meet yours — he can’t keep hiding this from you. He had made the decision months ago — and it was only a matter of time before someone else slipped up and told you (most likely Gojo). 

“I’m leaving after graduation,” he says the words like ripping off the bandage, but it hurts him all the more when your fingers are still for a moment, your eyes finding his own, as you stare at him. 

“You’re—” you cut off, and you don’t protest, you don’t argue — you only ask one question — “Why?” 

And that one question was more difficult to answer than any other you could have asked, a sigh stuck in his throat, as he shook his head. 

“I can’t do this anymore — I haven’t wanted to since—” he cuts off, mouth impossibly dry — it was easy to tell Yaga he wasn’t going to continue, even easier to take care of half a dozen grade 2 curses at once — but this was— “I can’t stand by and watch my colleagues die one by one beside me — I don’t want to live like this. I’m sorry—” 

“You don’t have to be sorry, Kento,” his heart squeezes at the sound of your voice wrapped around his name — what you had taken to calling him recently — “as long it’s what you want. I know it’s been difficult—I was surprised you hadn’t left when—” and your voice falters, neither of you could bear to bring up his name, refusing to even utter it around the other — as if it would summon every horrible memory from that time—and your voice is soft, “I just want you to be happy,” 

And there’s nothing more than he wanted to be the one to make you happy — nothing more than he wanted to ask you to be by his side, let him be the one to take care of you, and nothing more he wanted than to ask you to leave with him—

But that was the one thing he could never ask you to do. 

Just as you would never ask him to stay for you. 

“I want you to be happy too,” he murmurs, as you continue to clean his cut, before your fingers are moving to grab the bandages, slowly beginning to wrap them around his palm, “more than even myself,” 

“What’s new?” he wrinkled his brow, and you chuckle, “I mean, you never put yourself first, and I’m glad you are now. You deserve to be happy, even if it’s not….here,” and you finish bandaging his hand, but his fingers curl around yours, “Ken—“ 

He squeezes your hand softly and his words are just as soft,  “You would be the only one who could ever make me happy,” and he hears your breath catch, and it only makes him want to steal it from your lips with his own, “because I know that being by your side would be only thing that could satisfy me,” 

Your fingers brush against his cheek, “Too bad I’m apparently in love with Gojo—“ you tease, all too pretty smile as you do, and his lips draw even closer, “Kento—“ 

“And if you’re so in love with Gojo, why are you here with me?” And he waits, waits for you to pull away, to stop him, to show any indication you didn’t want this—

But you close the gap instead, lips barely brushing his, so chaste, and yet it’s a spark to kindling — a fire neither of you should have lit. And yet, his lips find yours, insistent, his fingers cup your cheek, featherlight touch drawing a shiver down your body that he relishes in. 

“Kento—“ 

“Why is it my name on your lips?” And he kisses you again and again, your noses brushing each other’s, he’s murmuring your name like a prayer, and if it was, he would worship at your altar each day, “Why it is that you’re kissing me?” 

And your lips curl against his, as they find his again, “You kissed me first,” and he can taste the sweetness of the melon bread you had shared with him that morning, but something even sweeter that only be you, “so why did you do that?” 

But you knew why — especially from the smile gracing your features, one that he wished he could have etched in the inside of his mind, “Isn’t it obvious?” and your lips part to answer, but he cuts you off with another brush of your lips, “I love you,” 

And your eyes widen only slightly, but you’re kissing him again, arms curling around his neck, fingers sliding behind his neck — “Figured that out when you got jealous of Gojo, but I’m glad you admitted it,” and your forehead finds his, “and that I love you too,” 

You loved him — you loved him — he had to tell himself again and again, but he still couldn’t fathom it. Was it a dream? You were always a dream to him — something he could nearly grasp with his fingers, but always remained just out of reach. 

And now he held you in his hands and he never wanted to let go. But he had to — he knew he had to. 

So he would — even if it would hurt — hurt that no bandage would fix. 

He kissed you again, unless you were the one to place it. 

~~

“Why is it that I always find you like this?” Nanami’s eyes slowly met yours — he sat in Ieiri’s office, waiting to be seen, only find you there in the doorway instead, “it’s as if you’re asking to be patched up by me, Kento,” 

How long had it been? And somehow he knows the answer before even thinking about it — it had been nearly a decade. A decade since the two of you had graduated — you moving to Kyoto to help run the campus there, while he had moved onto a regular college and then a corporate job — one that had nearly sucked his soul dry of any life he had to begin with. And it was only when he had received gratitude for the first time in a long time — that he remembered the reason he had stayed a jujutsu sorcerer after Haibara…

And now, here was the other. 

He murmurs your name, nearly sounding foreign on his lips, “How did you—” 

“I ran into your student, Nanamin,” and he furrows his brow at the nickname — Itadori’s little name for him after he had refused to be his sensei. Because he wasn’t one — Gojo may have taken up the mantle of teacher for his own personal ego trip — but he wasn’t ready to form relationships like that. And yet…his lips curl, there you were, “didn’t think you wanted to be a teacher,” 

“I don’t, but how can I refuse that white haired idiot?” he half grumbled with a sigh, eyes still slowly grazing over you, “but I don’t want to talk about him right now,” 

You draw a step closer, shutting the door behind you, a lilt in your voice as lovely as your grin, “Then what do you want to talk about?” and you stop right in front of him, as your fingers reach out, and he’s nearly leaning into your touch, but he’s wincing, as your fingers press against his bruised body, “because I want to talk about how you ended up in such rough shape,”

A sigh stuck in his throat, his next words nearly along with it, “It could have been much, much worse,” he murmurs, “if Itadori wasn’t there, I—” he breaks off, “that special grade — he could touch my soul and it had caught me in its domain—”

And your arms are pulling you into a tight hug, your fingers running through his hair, “But you’re here, you’re okay,” you murmur softly, your palm pressed against his chest, you can feel his heart pump under your fingers, “you made it,” 

“But—” 

“But nothing, Kento, you’ll make it back every time,” your fingers cup his cheek, pressing your forehead against his, “right?” 

Your touch was the only thing that could truly make him feel whole again — as if every crack in his soul had been mended with gold, “how do you know?”

And your lips curl into a soft smile, your head tilting ever so slightly, “Because you love me, right?” 

The chuckle on his lips is nearly enough to bite back his nerves as the words leave his lips, “I’ve loved you for years, sweetheart, that’s nothing new,” 

You’re shaking your head, “And all these years, we always found our way back to the other, right?” your hand finds purchase on his shoulder now, the other against his cheek, “so we just have to keep doing that,” 

“You make it sound so simple,” he murmurs, and your lips find his — and it makes him wonder how he had spent so much time without your touch, because right now it was the only thing keeping him whole — stealing the doubts from his head and the aches from his body — leaving only heat filling the empty gaps left behind.

“It is simple,” your hand interlaces with his, “if we let be.” 

~~~

“I’m starting to think you hurt yourself on purpose around me more now that we’ve moved in together,” you examine the small cut on his finger, a nick from the knife that the ratio sorcerer had been using to slice his freshly baked loaf of bread. Scarlet slipped from the small cut, and his soft murmur of ‘ouch’ unfortunately had not gone unheard by you. He swore you must have selective hearing — you wouldn’t listen when he told you to go to bed, but you’d hear him hiss in pain under his breath even when half asleep on 

“It’s not too deep, I think just a bandage should be fine,“ Your brow knit together as you purse your lips, and he bit back his smile, knowing it would only serve for him to get scolded for not being more careful. 

“It’s nothing, love, I can take care of it—“ and his breath catches when your lips find their way around his finger, sucking slightly to ease the bleeding, your tongue flicking over the cut, “sweetheart—“ he swears under his breath, a distinct flush burning at the crown of his cheeks, “what—“ 

“They say saliva can help a cut heal faster,” you smile, before pulling a bandage out of the first aid kit you had pulled out, and your lips press a sweet kiss to his cut again, a smirk as you meet his gaze, “Ken—” 

And he’s kissing you, your body tenses a moment only to melt into his touch, your arms wrapping around his neck — he can taste his blood on your lips, raking your fingers through his hair. He can only think about getting closer, closer, closer — he needs you. His hands slide down your back, until they find your hips, squeezing, as he presses himself to you. 

“Baby,” you murmur breathlessly, as your lips part his, a gasp that turns to a soft moan when his lips press heated kisses down your jaw. His nose brushes against the soft skin of your neck, as he presses you against the counter of his apartment, his hands slide down, large palms grasping your ass, “I need—” 

“What do you need?” his fingers sneaking up and down the sides of your body. His teeth graze your pulse, your head falls back, exposing more of your neck to him, as his tongue soothes the mark he left behind, “because you know I’ll give you anything you ask for, sweetheart,” 

And his fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs as he lifts you onto the counter, calloused palms pressing your legs apart — but he barely has to, your thighs already spreading for him. And he finds your shorts nearly soaked through — your drenched cunt visible even through the two layers of fabric stuck together from your arousal. 

But you don’t need to ask for him to know what you want — it’s second nature, it’s instinct for his fingers to dip inside the waistband of your shorts and underwear alike, tugging them both down, until you were kicking them off. 

“Is all this for me?” he murmurs, pressing a sweet kiss to your inner thigh, as two fingers graze down your slit, gathering your pre on his fingertips, before he meets your gaze only to lick his fingers clean, “I was never one for sweets — except when it came to you. Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,” 

Your head lolls back, as his thick fingers circle your clit with practiced ease, pulling back only to drag his tongue up the length of your needy cunt. And your eyes find his again, heady gaze heavy with need and his pretty lips and chin already glossy with your juices. 

“Kento—fuck,” your fingers thread through his blonde locks. First, one finger sinks in and then another — 

his nose bumping against your clit as his tongue stretches your walls in tandem with your fingers, grinding against his face, “s’good, I can’t—“

But he’s relentless, the wet squelch of your messy walls and your choked out moans ring in his ears and are nearly enough to make him cum right in his pants — already far too tight, blood rushing downwards far too quick. 

Another

“Such a good girl,” Kento murmurs, and you are, so perfect — “just let me take care of you,” 

“Kento, please, more, need—“ and his lips find your clit, tongue flicking against the hardened bud, before sucking long and hard, while a third finger joins the other two. Your back arches, the coil in your stomach grows tighter and hotter — your slick dripping from your messy hole onto the counter. 

His fingers squeeze at your flesh, and he could live between your legs forever — it could be his meal morning, noon, and night — he could spend hours lapping at you until you fell apart over and over. His fingers stretch you out far too deliciously, and your walls are giving that telltale flutter. 

“Kento—g’nna cum—I—“ and his fingers are fucking you harder and his lips close around your clit, sucking hard, until you’re moaning his name, muscles growing tight as you fall apart. You’re a mess, your fingers trying to press his head impossibly closer as you grind against him, riding out your orgasm, as your juices gush over his face — and he’s lapping up every drop, as you fall limp against the counter, his arm slipping around your back to support you. 

Your eyes flutter open to watch him pulling away with a pop, strings spit and cum connecting you to your cunt. His gaze drags over you, watching your juices drip against the counter, as he murmurs quiet praises, licking his lips clean of your release. 

And your fingers find his cheeks, pulling him into a deep kiss, moaning as you taste yourself on his lips, the filthiness of it all enough for his cock to grow even harder against your thigh. And it’s a matter of moments, before your fingers are tugging at his sweatpants and boxers, freeing his erection, his pretty cock all but ready for you — lovely ruddy head dripping with pearly white beads of precum. 

“Look at what you do to me, love,” he murmurs, as your eyes meet his, gaze blown out in lust. 

“Kento, please,” and his lips curl, his fingers raking through your hair, as he pulls you even closer, his erection bumping against your sopping pussy, “I want—“ 

He drags his cock over your slit, watching his pre mix with your release, the two of you groaning when his tip catches on your clit, “what do you want sweetheart? Tell me, tell me what you need,” his arms are hooked around your knees, pressing them to your chest. 

You keen when his tip teases your sopping hole, “I need you to fuck me—“ and you’re whining as his cock pressed into you, splitting you open on his length — and god you could never get used to how big he was — you could feel very pretty vein and delicious curve—

Fuck, he could bust just looking down at you, at the way your lips parted for him as he had sunk into you, the way he could see how your pussy stretched around his dick — like you were made for him. Pleasure ripped up his spine at the sight — his fingernails digging crescents into your hips. 

And he knew that he was certainly made for you. 

“S’good, s’full — please,” you’re nearly mewling, begging for him to move, “Kento—“ and he obliges, unable to hold back any longer, as he begins to slowly rock his hips against you, each stroke getting longer and deeper. His balls slap against your hips, as he picks up the pace — your walls squeezing around him. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, didn’t think you could get any tighter,” he grunts, his cock stuffed inside your walls, and he’s gritting his teeth, your soft moans and the noises of your pretty pussy becoming too much for him. White ring of release formed around his base — his balls growing tight as he inches closer and closer to blow his load, “you always can f’me, can’t you?” 

And he gives a particularly hard thrust, right as his lips find yours in a messy, sloppy kiss ��� all tongue and teeth, your head falls back when his tip finds your g-spot again and again. You squirt all over his length, soaking him and the counter with your release, as he fucks you through your orgasm, again and again. Your toes curl when he finally comes, his release painting your walls with his thick, hot release — fucking it deeper and deeper, and he’s notching himself inside. 

You’re slumping against him, your eyes shut, as he pulls you closer into his arms, pressing sweet kisses all over your face until he finds your lips again. 

“I love you,” you mumble, eyes fluttering open as he cups your chin, a soft smile on his lips. 

“I love you more,” and he’s slowly lifting you, carrying you over to your shared bed, and you’re burying your face in the crook of his neck. 

“But what about your cut?” You mumble, and a chuckle on his lips, as he presses a kiss to your forehead, as he sets you down on the bed, grabbing a damp washcloth to clean you up. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, you’ve done plenty,” he murmurs, as he finishes cleaning you up, only to slip into bed beside you — “let me take care of you.” 

~~~

It was over. 

That’s what Nanami had thought when Mahito had stopped him in his tracks, his hand pressed against his chest, but more importantly, against his soul. 

“I didn’t know you were here,” Nanami said, his eyes unable to tear away from the curse’s. 

He could barely feel anything anymore — the stinging had dulled somewhere between his trek down the winding tunnels of Shibuya station. Instead, he could only hear the echo of his footsteps, as he had forced himself to take one step forward over and over and over — and that’s when he had seen them. 

The congregation of curses or mutated humans — he didn’t know which they were, but did it really matter at this point? It didn’t. He dispatched them all the same — all while his thoughts were only filled of you — you, you, you and you. 

And a beach in Malaysia. 

“Yeah, Kuantan would have been nice,” and it would have been — it was only a few months away. The vacation the two of you had meticulously planned out. The days spent out walking the beach, lounging by the water with the books neither of you had never read, and nights falling asleep by each other’s side to the metronome of the waves crashing. 

And now, he had found himself, staring death in the face — an echo of his near death from only a few months ago. How had it come to this already? He had always felt he was running out of time — constantly watching the clock, trying to run it out for his retirement, only for it to run out before he could make it to those sandy shores he had dreamed of. 

“Yup. The whole time,” Mahito replies, lips in an easy smile, “Wanna chat? We go way back, after all,” 

Nanami’s eyes fall to the floor, the dirtied and bloodied tiles underneath his feet — he didn’t feel like spilling his guts to a curse. 

Haibara, what the hell was I trying to do? He asks in his mind, not even daring to say the words aloud, I ran. Even though I ran away, I came back with the vague reason of finding the work worthwhile. 

And then he sees Haibara, appearing in front of him, patented smile on his lips, as he points south — points right at— 

“Itadori,” Mahito says. 

“Nanamin!” his eyes wide as he takes in his state — horror painted on his face, already so helpless — what else had he seen and now he had to see this too? He shouldn’t have had to see this. He should have been a normal kid — worrying about normal things — not fighting monsters in some damned subway tunnel. 

But what could he do about what now? What could he do but stop? 

Could he finally stop? 

No, Haibara. That’s not right. I can’t say that to him. It’ll just end up becoming a curse for him. 

But it’s a curse every jujutsu sorcerer had to bear — made to bear until there were either no curses or no sorcerers left. 

But he couldn’t regret it now. 

“Itadori,” his lips curl, smiling for the last time, “you’ve got it from—“ 

And then there’s a crash — screaming, the sound of blood splattering. It takes him a minute to realize it wasn’t him. 

It was you. 

You had crashed between the two of them, sending the curse flying with your cursed energy, the impact drawing blood from you and Mahito alike. Your arm was around his body — and Nanami is whispering your name. 

“I told you, Kento, we’re always going to come home — even if I have to drag you there,” you say, your eyes still flickering between Itadori and Mahito, “Itadori, tske Nanami—“ 

“No, this is my fight,” he shakes his head, his fingers clenched into fists, “I almost let Nanamin die — I have to do this—“ 

“Yuji—“ you say, but he’s already barreling towards Mahito, and you’re whispering fuck, as you take Nanami in the opposite direction. 

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry,” and his eyes are barely able to stay open, as you help carry his weight alone the deserted subway, “I’m sorry—“ 

“Why are you sorry—“ but he’s barely awake along enough to hear your question, until it’s all black. 

It takes him several months to recover. Cursed energy healing could only do so much, especially since Ieiri was spread thin enough with everything between Shibuya, the Culling Games, and everything else that came after. 

Most of the brunt of his care had fallen on you — you changed his bandages, tended to his wounds, dealt with any signs of infection with help from Ieiri, and handled everything else around the house. 

“Why do you do all of this for me?” He asks quietly, one day while he sits, your back turned while you washed the dishes from lunch — the clinking of plates and the sound of water running that squeaks shut when he asks. 

You turn, lips in a frown, “what do you mean, Kento?” 

His fingernails dig into his knee, biting back a sigh, as you walk over after wiping your hands off, “it’s been months of you just…taking care of me. I don’t get it — I didn’t understand when we were students when you insisted on caring for me, and now…” he swallows, his throat still impossibly dry—even after all treatment, nothing still tasted the same, “I’ve just become a burden—“ 

You cup his cheeks, “Kento, you are never a burden to me—“ 

“But—“ 

“But nothing — wouldn’t you do the same for me if I was in your position?” But he’s shaking his head. 

“It’s not—“ 

“Kento, do you remember our first mission together?” he blinks, his brow furrowing, but you only smooth it with your fingers, “it was my first mission — I had barely gotten the hang of using cursed energy — I hadn’t even exorcised a curse before, but as always, jujutsu society had left children to bear the burden of survival amongst themselves,” and your fingers find his, “but you never left me alone. I froze in front of the curse. I didn’t know what to do with myself — even while you dealt with two others on your own — you still managed to save me, even though you managed to hurt yourself in the process,” your voice was soft, your hand finding his, lacing your fingers with his, squeezing his hand — but he’s not sure whether it’s to remind him you’re here or to remind yourself that he’s still here, “and you don’t remember it do you?” his lips purse, as his eyes can’t find yours, gaze cast downwards, but he hears you give a soft chuckle. 

“I look at you and I see all the ways a soul can bruise — because you’ve taken hits that weren’t yours to take — you’ve taken challenges that shouldn’t have been yours to bear,” your fingers skim over his cheeks, “even in what you thought were your last moments,” your voice breaks, swallowing back tears, “your thoughts were of others — of helping your students, of Itadori, of me—” you shake your head, “and you think I’m doing too much for you? I think you deserve so much more than me—“ 

“All I need is you,” his voice is breaking, swallowing thickly, “that’s all I ever wanted,” 

“Then just stay here with me — that would be enough for me,” you lean close and press your lips to his — and even still, the taste of your kiss was never any less sweet, “all I want is to come home to you, you think you can handle that?” 

His lips find yours again, as they always would, “I’ll show you.” 

~~~

“It doesn’t hurt that bad,” and Nanami chuckles, his hands hooked around your knees and thighs, as your arms wrapped around his neck, your head resting on one of his shoulders, “Kentoooo, you don’t have to—“ 

“I want to, and I’m not going to risk it getting any worse by letting you walk on the sand — the sunset was painting the water in hues of gold, pinks, and purples — and the beauty of this beach was only made better by your presence, “just let me do this for you, love,” and you sigh, relenting, as you bury your face in the side of his neck. 

“My husband is so doting, just a small cut on sea glass makes you this crazy?” and he shivers slightly, but it’s not from the slight sea breeze tickling his nose, but from your nose brushing against your neck, “are we headed back already?” 

“How else will we treat your foot?” your hands slide over his bare skin — the skin still scarred as it always would be, an eye tucked away under an eyepatch — unable to be saved — but your husband was saved all the same, “unless Ieiri taught you how to used reversed cursed technique before our vacation,” 

“It’s really not that bad—” 

“Is this your first time being a patient?” and you pout, as he chuckles, vibration of his sweet laugh against your chest as you press yourself impossibly closer, especially when you see the looks of others as the two of you walk by. 

“It’s embarrassing to be carried like this,” you murmur, “come on baby, I can walk the rest of the way,” but he only hums, casting a small glance over his shoulder. 

“I like carrying you like this,” his lips curled in a smirk, “everyone knows you’re mine this way,” and your cheeks burn, and you kiss his cheek, pouting as you do, “we’ll be back on the beach soon enough — we have all the time in the world sweetheart,” 

And you did — you bury your face in the side of his neck again — with him— 

Always. 

✧ a/n: this has been a long time coming!! i feel like with every one of these fics i'm never happy with them, but then they end up being better than i remember. apparently i just don't like my writing very much haha. i hope you guys enjoy <3 it's been so long since i wrote nanamin, so i hope it came out good <3

✧ taglist: @1angel-digits1, @i-spilt-ink-on-my-phone, @freaky-show, @strangehuman101, @nanamis-baker, @hanxyy, @chosobeee, @luneriaa, @being-me-is-not-a-sin, @forest-fruits-jam, @unorthodoxfaithxx, @caelestine-the-caelicatto, @kenmei, @somrou, @spider-fan72, @missukiyo

#sab [mlist] #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento x you #nanami x reader #nanami smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami kento fanfiction #nanami x you #kento nanami smut #kento nanami x reader

[ains-disco-spam]

Thoughts on Lena

The first time I played through Disco Elysium, I talked to Lena right after Kim joined my party and immediately got the dialogue option where she says something racist.

Because of that, I was iffy on her from the beginning. But I’ve seen a lot of people say that they actually didn’t know about this dialogue or that they didn’t get it on their playthrough. Whenever I see this dialogue mentioned, there are always a lot of people saying how disappointed they are that she would say something like that because she seems like a nice old lady.

I think that this moment is actually one of the most important depictions of racism in the game. Besides this one instance, Lena is friendly toward you and Kim. If you call her out on the implication that Seolites are a different species than her and Harry, she basically says that being a different species isn't a bad thing because white people have earwax that smells and Seolites don't.

The whole interaction is such a small moment within the game, and a small part of her character. It’s so easy to miss. And that is exactly how racism works.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been talking to an older person who seems kind and then all of a sudden they say something extremely bigoted out of the blue. I actually got the idea to write this after the nice old lady who is a custodian at my job said something transphobic in front of me and it totally broke my heart.

It’s easy to condemn a cross-burning KKK member or a homophobic preacher who says that all LGBTQ+ people will burn in hell. It’s a lot harder for people to condemn bigotry when it comes from people that they otherwise see as kind.

But most bigots are not like Gary the Cryptofascist or Measurehead. Most of them are like Lena. They are the uncles who think that “if people just cooperated with the police then they wouldn’t be shot.” They are the classmates who make fun of the professor’s accent. They are docile old ladies who think that Seolites are not as human as white people are.

And that makes it harder for people to see the bigotry within themselves. People can easily tell themselves things like “I don’t want all trans people to die, so I’m not transphobic. I’m just worried for the children.” When the media only portrays bigotry in its most extreme forms, it is hard to see that being a little bit racist is still being racist.

And this is even more interesting because of her and Morrell’s friendship with Gary. He is a self-proclaimed fascist with an extensive collection of racist mugs, but Lena and Morrell still keep him around, presumably because they are willing to overlook his “differing political opinions” because they think that he is a good person in other ways. And because his fascist ideas do not affect people that look like them.

So yeah, I want to see more people talking about how fascinating Lena and Morrell are as depictions of racism in Disco Elysium.

#disco elysium #harry du bois #kim kitsuragi #lena #lena disco elysium

[fire-emblem-drabbles]

Pairing: Astarion x reader

Prompt: In which you couldn't convince Astarion not to become the Vampire ascendant, but still do not allow him to do the ritual.

Description: You really did fall so hard, and so, so fast. No wonder when the ground came to meet you did it hurt just as much. But perhaps its not too late to stand back up again, if someone was willing to lend a hand.

Rating: sfw

Content Warning: hurt/comfort

Word Count: 3018

Notes: I had to save scum this so much on my file that was romancing him. And well I be thinking about him a lot lately... I litterally have no idea where these words came from btw so I hope u enjoy them!

“It’s over,” Said with such disdain, such pain and hurt, directed your way. “I’m done with this, and I’m done with you.” Venom, dripping and cold. What happened to the warmth in those eyes? To the love that once shown in them, when he looked your way? “I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.” He looked so broken, so hurt.

You hardly remembered what came next, beyond your own tears. Astarion simply… left. Walk away as you crumpled to the ground, in disbelief. As you begged him to say. When you told him, over and over again, that you loved him.

Karlach and Shadowheart must have dragged you out of those dungeons, otherwise you might still be there, wallowing in your pity. You don’t remember how long it had been since then. Since you had stopped Cazador from ascending, freed Astarion from his grasp… and tried to convince him not to ascend himself. Your words may have failed, but your actions didn’t; you didn’t let him use your eyes to copy his scars. You couldn’t.

All for him to walk away.

You hadn’t really been the same, since then. Where once you were the leader of your little ragtag group of adventurers, now you couldn’t find it in you to leave your tent. Well… Astarion’s tent, actually. You never had one of your own. And when the two of you got together, it just seemed natural to share.

Gale had taken over in leading everyone for day to day adventuring on your behalf. Even though you wished it, the world would not slow down because you were hurt. No kindness spared on your broken, broken heart. Yet you couldn’t stop wondering where you went wrong. Were the two of you not as close as you thought? Could you have been more convincing, hell, more intimidating, anything to have kept him by your side?

You think, right now, it’s night. Your candle’s are all stuffed out, the bustle of the streets beyond are quiet, and you can’t hear the patter and stomps of Scratch and the owlbear cub playing around camp. Your tears have all but dried, even if your sorrow remains as fresh as a new wound. No, all is silent in this moment.

You take a deep breath. Yes, it would be best to sleep. Maybe tomorrow, you would wake up and feel like a person again. One who could attend to all her duties. And maybe even get back on the path to save Baldur’s gate.

But sleep never comes for those whose hearts are so heavy. This isn’t the first night you’ve lied awake, thoughts wondering. All for the better, perhaps-- because in the heavy quiet of the cities dark night, you hear the flap of your tent open with the utmost quietness. And you, just as quiet, sit up from your laying position. Who ever has invaded your space must have dark vision, for they pause upon seeing your form and do not move an inch.

“I can see you there.” Your voice comes out, gravelly and rough. You don’t sense your in danger, though, even as your heart beats and pounds in your chest. Who would be stupid enough to steal from a camp full of adventurers, with an owlbear lurking around no less. Still, with some trepidation, you cast the cantrip for light, and watch as your messy tent (and new guest) are bathed in cool, blue light.

“Oh,” Is all you think to say. You can’t really trust your eyes, so you rub the days of built up sleep and sorrow from them. No, you can’t even speak his name as you stare upon him. But you dare not look away. Even if it was a dream, it was him. It was him.

“...You’re a mess.” His words are soft, quiet. He seems to relax a little when he sees you make no movement.

“...I suppose I am.” You clear your throat a little after speaking, if only because a new lump seems to be forming now that you look to him. “How… how can I help you, Astarion?”

“Gods…” He heaves a heavy sigh, looking over your pitiful form. “I’ve hurt you this much, and you still think to help me? Are you stupid?” He shakes his head in disbelief.

“Perhaps.” You nod softly. “Stupid enough to fall in love with you, after all.” You can only smile weakly at him.

“I came here too…” He frowns, looking away from you for a moment. “Well it doesn’t matter why I came back. You clearly need some sense knocked back into you.” With that, he moves in closer to you. Surprised, you move in a little in order to accommodate him. You try to ignore the beating of your heart, ignore the hope that rises within you like a phoenix from its ashes.

“What… are you going to do?” You turn to him, nestled into your side like he might have been not too long ago.

“Talk, as terrible as that sounds.” He keeps his gaze down, looking at the messed up bedding.

“Talk?” You repeat. “I thought you… didn’t want to see me again.”

“Well, that was then. This is now.” Astarion looks to you. To the bags built up under your eyes. Your cheeks, still rosy and sensitive with just how many tears you’ve shed (for him, no less). Your hair is unkempt and as gross as you are, all he can see is someone that loves him… “I… said and did some terrible things during that ritual. Things that… looking back, I may not have done were I in the right head space.” He swallows hard. “I was… scared. And the promise of power, the smell of blood… it was all so intoxicating, I forgot myself there for a moment.”

The two of you sit in the silence a moment, festering in it. Words dance on the tip of your tongue but Astarion isn’t done speaking. He, too, needs a moment to compose himself. “But… you never forgot who I was.” He looks to you, something soft, something sad, something gentle written into the contours of his face. Even as he turns to you, he struggles to meet your eyes-- shining, glimmering, with something sweet and promising and loving in them. Something that he doesn’t deserve; not after the actions he took that day.

“You did everything in your power to convince me what I was doing was wrong, but all I could see then was the security that power could bring me.” He closes his eyes, taking a sharp intake of air though his nose. “I was so blinded, I could not see that with you by my side, I was the happiest I’ve ever been these past 200 years…” As he opens his eyes, he looks down to his folded hands, then over to yours. You realize that even if he is so close… Astarion hesitates to touch you. Maybe he felt as if he wasn’t allowed to do so any more, or perhaps felt he was no longer worthy… Whatever the reason, it breaks your heart just a little bit more.

“I… see.” It’s a lot to soak up. That in the moment, you couldn’t reach him but in the days sense Astarion has realized… maybe this was for the better.

“You saved me from becoming the very man I lived in fear of, and all I gave you in return was heartbreak.” He seeks your eyes, his own wide and wet and you realize he’s crying now. Tears flood your eyes as well, because he was right; you cared for him so much, though, it almost didn’t seem to matter. Almost. “How can I ever expect you to forgive me?” With that, he breaks, closing his eyes roughly and crying out, sobbing into his own hands.

All you can do in that moment is cry with him. Two, love sick idiots broken and hurt but not beyond mending-- not yet.

“It’s okay,” You find yourself struggling to say the words, even as you usher him into your arms and hold him. He does not hesitate to hold you in turn, to cry unto you as you into him. “We’ll be okay, I promise, I promise.” Your words come out as prayer as you hold him close. “Just don’t leave again, please!”

“I won’t, I won’t.” Astarion seems to compose himself more quickly than you do, but he does not let go, even as you know your tears stain his shirt. “I’ve got you and I won’t leave you ever again.” He rubs his hand along your back slowly, doing his best to try and comfort you in the same way you have for him in the past. It’s a long moment before you feel yourself begin to breathe normally again, before your tears once again dry and you find yourself staring into his red eyes once more.

“I love you,” Your words are softer than a whisper, said with a trembling smile.

“I love you too.” Astarion responds in kind, resting his forehead against yours. You two stay content a moment before he speaks again. “But you’re disgusting-- let me take care of you.” He pulls away from you and your left no room to argue. You merely blink, owlishly, as he pulls back. He moves to stand but you grab his hand.

“Where are you going?” You hold on to him with both hands now, and he has to pause to take the sudden fear on your face. Astarion had planned to leave to return with a little wash bin and rag but seeing you so distraught makes him pause. Of course, the last time he walked away from you he didn’t return…

“We’re going to get you cleaned up.” With a bit of a struggle, Astarion gets you to rise to your feet next to him. “Don’t make it more difficult than it has to be.” He adds. You nod slowly, still a little on edge from the panic that just flooded your system but nonetheless, trusting Astarion.

So, with the difficulty that comes with only having one hand, Astarion pins open the flaps of the tent (your light cantrip soon goes out as well, but the inside is illuminated but the torchlight of your camp). Some of the stale air you had been living in gets to escape, and you’re able to take a fresh breath of air you hadn’t realized you needed.

Astarion gathers his wash bin, and the rag, and with you in tow, rummages through that the travelers chest you seem to toss anything and everything into. But, avoiding unmatched boots and careful not to prick himself on all the arrows that are in there (and trying not to think about how they were likely dumped in there after he left), he finds what he was looking for-- some soap. And though the water is cold, and the night is cool, at least with a little bit of soap and his careful hand, it’s not all bad.

“You need to wash these clothes too,” Astarion huffs. “I know you have other things, so let’s get you into something cleaner.” You’re guided back into your shared tent (which is already starting to smell better, but the scented water is helping as well) while Astarion rifles though your clothing. Here together again, you finally let go of his hand but stay close to him.

“Thank you…” You pause, watching him pick out something comfortable and warm. “I can take care of myself, though.” You add, taking the clothing from him.

“I’m sure you can-- but I want to take care of you.” He doesn’t let go of your clothing as you try and take it. “So, let me.” His gaze flicks up to your eyes and you’re surprised to see him look so stubborn.

“Oh,” You let go of the clothing, surprised. “I… That would be nice.” You say it quietly, still too caught up in him being here, being real and touching you, loving you.

“Now, out of the nasty clothing, if you would.” He persists, grabbing the hem of your current shirt. He pauses before lifting it though, looking to your face. “That is, if you’re okay with me…” he trails, unsure.

“It’s you, so it’s okay.” You assure him. You raise your hands so he can take off the offending, stinky shirt, and toss it aside. Next, he removes your pants, tossing them the same direction.

“This might be a little cold,” Astarion tells you, but it doesn’t stop the flinch (nor the shiver) as the cool rag touches your skin. Still, his touch is delicate and careful.

He first wipes your face (part of it, still covered in blood and dirt from that same battle). He dips and wrings out the rag, before continuing his work. Your chest, your arms, legs-- all of you, gently washed and cared for. You realize this is the first time he’s been so intimate with you in a non sexual way. It’s… nice. To see his brow furrowed in concentration, have his hands upon you just hold you. It’s not like the two of you went entirely without touching one another in that time, but to have him initiating it, warms you.

“Now, back in your clothing before you catch a cold.” You nod at him and smile, sliding on the familiar pants and shirt with comfort and ease.

“I already feel a lot better, thank you.” He smiles softly, but sits you back down.

“Just let me attend to this rats nest, and we can be done.” Astarion reaches for his comb, and sits beside you. “Lean back so I can wet your hair,” He guides you down, with your head over the basin, and cups his hand to gather water before wetting your hair.

You let his work quietly, until your hair is wet and he can begin working out the knots starting at the ends. When the comb runs freely to your hair, he grabs the soap and carefully massages it into your scalp, scratching here in there. You let out a sigh in content, and Astarion can’t help but smile softly.

He was still shocked that you even talked to him-- let alone let him touch you. But the two of you needed this. To hold and be held, to love and let go. He truly was a fool to ever think he could be without you. But he was lucky, then, that you were fool enough to let him back in.

With your hair washed, combed, and dried and the water dumped and wash bin put aside, Astarion let you sit back up and look at him. “So… what happens next?” You ask softly.

“Well… I’m not sure.” He admits. “I didn’t think you would forgive me so… I hadn’t really thought much beyond that.”

“I suppose we get our rest, then.” You heave a heavy sigh. “I know I’ve taken enough time off from adventuring… And you have some friends who deserve an explanation as well.”

“More talking?” Astarion groans softly, but makes no move to leave your side as you lie down and tug him with you. “But… you are right.”

“You’ll be okay.” You give him a good, full body squeeze. “Everyone here cares for you. They’ll be willing to hear you out.”

“Perhaps only with you by my side.” He lets out a little chuckle. “But… that’s not such a bad thing.” He readjusts in your grasp, snuggling close and turning towards you. “Rest well, darling.” He kisses the top of your head, and smiles down at your sleepy expression.

“I will, now that you’re here…” It didn’t take long for sleep to find you, wound up in Astarion’s arms. You hadn’t slept so well in days, and who was he to wake you when you looked so peaceful…? It seemed like time passed so quickly with you in his arms, and before long he could hear the sounds of everyone else waking in camp.

Astarion couldn’t help but grow anxious as footsteps grew closer to the tent. “Solider, you in there?” Karlach’s voice called out. “I know you haven’t been very hungry lately, but I brought you some breakfast…” Unable to do anything to stop her, Astarion watched as Karlach pokes her head into the tent. With the morning light, they could only stare at one another a moment.

“Shh, just let them sleep a while longer…” Astarion turned from Karlach, and brushed some stray hairs from your face. “When they’re ready to wake up, I’ll… I’ll be ready to.” He turns from you, back to Karlach, a look of surprise and glee on her face.

“Right! Right… I’ll be quiet!” She gives him a little thumbs up and quickly retreats from the tent. But… Astarion can hear Karlach, even if she is all the way across camp. First, she tells Jaheira, then Minsc, and Minthara and Lae’zel overhear… Then Wyll, Shaodowheart and Halsin of course overhear and then Gale finds out, and now the whole camp is aware that he’s back here even if they are being remarkable polite about it….

Still, it brings a smile on his face. To know they were so excited to see him again (maybe even if it was only to see you happy again) was a comforting thought. To be among friends… That was something truly special indeed.

“Astarion…?” You wake slowly, eyes barely open as you look to him, hold him a little tighter.

“I’m here,” Astarion assures you, giving you a squeeze in return.

“Good…” You close your eyes and cuddle back into him, letting out a small yawn. “Let’s stay alone for just a little longer yet.”

“That can be arranged.” He can’t help but smile, and relax into you. Everyone else could wait a little longer yet-- you deserved what ever you wanted in this moment. And if that happened to be him, well, Astarion was in no place to say no.

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 fanfic #bg3 x reader #just... thinking about how alone and afriad he would feel after that #made me kind of insane

[opbackgrounds]

Before driving deeper into Usopp’s side of thing, I want to focus a little bit on Luffy, because as I’ve mentioned previously, this fight between has a bit of a different flavor from other Luffy-centric battles, but what I haven’t mentioned yet is how public all this is. The final battles with big bads like Arlong, Crocodile, and Enel were all away from other people, but not here. The shift of Luffy becoming a more public figure started with his ass whooping of Bellamy way back in Jaya, but even that was only in front of a bunch of pirates. Showing up to rock Enies Lobby is what’s really going to launch him into the public spotlight, and so it stands to reason that this final stand against Lucci is seen by both the marines and the Straw Hat Pirates.

So far he and Lucci have been on pretty equal footing, but Lucci managed to save his last big trump card until this moment, and seems to have Luffy beat when Usopp shows himself for real. Oda puts a ton of emphasis on Luffy’s expression, this panel alone taking up 3/4 of the page.

And, like, imagine Luffy’s shock. The gag of him not recognizing who Sogeking is turns on its head and is instead played for the deepest, juiciest drama. Usopp isn’t a Straw Hat anymore. He had no obligation to come to Enies Lobby. But he did.

All throughout Enies Lobby there’s been this running thread of the Straw Hats helping each other out of situations they couldn’t handle alone. Nami saving Sanji, Sanji saving Usopp, Usopp saving Robin. Hell, Robin not trusting her friends to keep her safe from the World Government is what kicked off this mess in the first place. The whole reason Luffy was so adamant about going against Lucci was because he recognized him as the strongest threat to the crew, and it’s Luffy’s job as the captain to protect those under his leadership from that kind of danger.

But right now he can’t. He’s not strong enough. And it’s not until Usopp threatens to put himself in harm’s way against an enemy they both know he has no chance about that he stands up and finishes the fight. Because even the captain needs to be propped up by his crew once in a while, and Luffy would rather die than have one of his crew get killed.

Do you remember now the fight started between Usopp and Luffy in the first place? Usopp argued, using the Merry as a proxy for his feelings, that Luffy would leave behind and abandon the weakest members of his crew to further his own ambition, and here, now, Luffy is showing in a very real way that that’s not true. But even if Luffy is willing to put his life on the line to protect Usopp from people like Lucci, he still needs Usopp’s help. He still needed those words from his best friend in order to stand up one last time. 

#opbackgrounds #one piece #ch427 #usopp #monkey d luffy #themes threads and throughlines #the power of friendship #Oda's expression game is on point

[littyhoney]

Right Person,Wrong Time (part 4)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4)

BIG SPOILER WARNING TO ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE!!

Earth 42 Miles Morales x Reader

Summary: Seeing a familiar face but different person. A person you once loved.

Warning: Spoilers for the movie Across the Spider-verse, slight angst

P.s: I don't know how to feel about this chapter,im sorry that the update is slow but i believe in quality over quantity <3 enjoy spiders!

Today have been moving so fast,first you found out how Gwen got here as you follow Miles after he left the party to catch up on Gwen. The only reason you follow him was because you promised mama Rio.

(Flashback)

You watch as Miles walk away from the party down to the fire escape stairs standing beside mama Rio. You can sense her restless and worry feeling for her own son as you remembered how much Miles wanted to leave from here,to see somewhere new,spread his wings.

“It’s okay mama Rio,you know how Miles is, he'll be alright”You hold her hand try to reassure her. mama Rio sigh turning her head looking at you with a worry expression.

“I know he is but…I’m scared of him wanting to grow up so fast, you both are just teens my dear”She held both of your shoulder turning you to face her,firm grasp on your shoulders she says “Promise me dear…when me and Jeff are not around…promise me you keep him safe,look out for him”

You put your hand on one of her palm and nod your head “Promise,mama”

(End flashback)

How much are you willing to protect him? Your best friend? Currently you held a strong grip on his arm as you watch this Spider-man…with a name Miguel O'Hara is threatening to keep Miles him here in this spider club house thing. Because he is an anomaly…and Miguel also want to keep you here because you’re supposed…to die.

“Because of you Miles,she was supposed to die!”You were destined to die at the collider…when you’re trying to help your mentor,Peter Parker. At the hand of the Prowler,uncle Aaron.  The canon event for your mentor is to lose his uncle Ben…to lose you,his pupil.  

To know you’re supposed to die is like a punch in the guts… you feel sick in the stomach to know you’re not supposed to survive or even breath another day.

Currently you held Miles behind you shielding him from Miguel as he try to destroy the barrier that have been made from the big spider machine that transport any anomaly back to their original dimension. You stare wide eyes at Miguel who is trying his best to stop you both,to see this man trying to tear apart the barrier. Fear grips around you. Suddenly the machine finish its job making both of you float and transported back to your home…or so you though.  

“Aaahhh!!” you  screamed as you are transported into the portal moving so fast it spit out both spiders out on top of a rooftop,the rain pouring down makes everything slippery as you and Miles rolled and slide through the concrete. You and Miles are slightly injured after getting kicked,slammed and thrown around like a rag doll by other spiders. You prop yourself up on your elbow shaking your head slightly, your ears ringing your visions are double as you try to locate where Miles is. “M-miles…?”your visions focus to see him his mask off breathing heavily trying to slow down his heart as he lean back to the wall,hundreds of thoughts running through his head before he stands up “I need to get back home!”He runs and jump from the rooftop swing himself away.

“Miles! Wait!”You stand up try to catch up to him but the pain on your left leg makes you limping before swing your web following him. Miles keep on swinging as fast as he can to his house,to find his dad,his mom. You follow behind him trying to get his attention from doing anything irrational.

Miles stick outside of the wall of his room opening the window and went inside, his heart racing as he take in deep breaths. You swing towards the window and you yelped as you landed on your injured leg holding yourself up on the wall, just as you climb in you heard the knob to the door turn you reach for anything nearby to cover your suit,a sweater. You grip the sweater together tightly trying your best to cover your suit.

The door to the room open slightly follow by a voice, “Miles?”

 You and Miles look at the door, to see his mom holding a laundry basket in her other hand,she look at her son.Rio look confuse to see her son but Miles desperate voice make her even worried.

“Mom..there is something coming for us,somethin terrible”Miles says

“Miles you’re talking crazy whats going on?”Rio walk closer to her son her eyes keep darting towards you.

Miles continue “His name is Spot…he is our nemesis, and we gonna stop him. I know you know…we been lying to you,it’s because that I knew…you won’t love me the same. You won’t look at (N/N) the same way too. Then I went out there and..now im not afraid of anything”

“What do you wanna tell me?”Rio ask her son.

“You gotta promise nothing’s gonna change mom”

“Papa I will always love you”

“You gotta promise”Miles desperately says

“Always,I don’t care what you said,Tu me tiendes?”Rio walks closer to him and hold one of his hand trying to reasure her son.

Miles pull away from her before he turn to the side readying himself to do this, he sigh “Mom” and pull the zip down turning to his mom. “I'm spider-man”he pull his jacket apart showing his mom his spider suit. “A-and (Y/N) is also the spider-man/spider-woman”

Rio just look at her son in confusion before she ask “W-Who’s Spider-man?”

You frown slightly as you are witnessing everything unfold,surely everyone in Brooklyn knows who you guys are. Every news and thousands of video on YouTube telling the world about the spider duo shoving the information to every.single.person.

“And who is (Y/N)?”she ask again tilting her head slightly looking at her son.

The moment she ask that you are stun,your eyes widened again looking through the window,are you hearing this right?. You blink a few times before, keeping your eyes at the familiar woman in front of you yet something in your gut is telling you she is not the same woman who would give you hug and kiss your forehead.

she let out a chuckle before giving his son a small smile “Miles you been keeping a secret of having a partner from me hm?”she turns to walk out of the room with the laundry basket in her hand.

Your spider sense goes off as you watch this woman who look exactly like your mama Rio,your brows knitted together watching Miles run out of his room following his ‘mom’ to the living room trying his best to explain.

You stuck at your spot,with your thoughts run haywire at what is happening,why she doesn’t remember you?, why she acts like you never met?, why does her aura feel different?

You shake your head,you need to focus. You keep watching as Miles is talking to his ‘mom’ before both of your attention drawn to the sound of a door knob unlocking at the main entrance of the house.

You press yourself closer peeking through the window still confuse while Miles seems to figure out what is happening looking scared at the door.

The door open to reveal, Aaron Davis. Miles supposedly dead uncle “U-uncle Aaron?” Miles mumble looking at the familiar figure walking through the door. Your eyes widen seeing the familiar figure walk infront of the open door, Uncle Aaron?. Your eyes darted to Miles,he look like he is seeing a ghost from the past then it all click in your head. You are in a different place, a place with no Spider-man to protect, a completely different dimension…you’re in a dimension of where the spider that bit Miles originally came from. Earth-42.

“Oh my god…”you mumble to yourself pressing yourself to the wall looking up at the sky mumbling “Shit…shit,shit”

You gulp as the anxious feeling and fear grip your throat like a choke hold. How in the hell you and Miles are going to get out of this? You see Uncle Aaron push Miles away slightly making a comment about him taking out his braids?

Miles turning his head making eye contact,you can see It in his eyes. He is scared. He turn his head to his uncle following him out of the house climbing up the stairs.

You crawl up the wall following them as in your head is screaming something is wrong,everything is. Both of you are in danger. You pull yourself up hiding behind the many scraps and metal on top of the rooftop keeping an eyes on Miles. As you walk further to the front your eyes looking around the place before you discover something even more heart breaking…on the wall Is a graffiti Of Jefferson Davis with a writing of ‘Rest in Power’.

Your heart starting to beat faster fear grips you fully, your head snap towards Miles just to see him got knocked out falling straight to the floor.

“Miles!”you jumped out from where you hide swinging your web to his body to pull him to you, to run. But your web got cut by a flashing purple,whatever it is that thing is fast. You ready yourself shooting out both of your web at it but the thing catches it pulling you to it before your head is punch with something metal. Your body flew back but you got yourself on your knee shaking your head to get rid of the ringing in your ears. You push forward charging at where its standing over Miles but suddenly something stinging comes from the back of your neck you hiss reaching your hand to pull whatever it is. It’s a fucking sleeping dart, shit you though to yourself but you try to walk to Miles body but you starting to see double and everything is swaying from side to side. You fall to your hand and knees fighting the urge to pass out.

The figure came closer to you kneeling down to your level lifting your head by gripping your chin to look at the purple Mask before a distorted voice says “duerme, arañita”your head slips from his hand landing on the floor pass out.

Uncle Aaron walk towards the two limp body before saying “A fierce one ay?”picking up Miles body and moves to the other one.

“No,I’ll take this one”the figure says before move to pick the limp body slinging it over his shoulder and walk towards the hideout. Aaron shrug and follows them inside.

(Timeskip a few hours later)

You blink as you slowly gaining conscious, you try to move your hands but it stop by a chain that is hanging you up on the ceiling making your feet hover a few inches off the ground. You struggle in your bind hopping it to lose or break but of course,it didn’t. You try to press on to your web shooter but to find nothing is on your wrist, shit they take your web shooter.  

“Dont even try, little spider”You snap your head to the figure who is wearing a neon mask that illuminates in the darkness. The figure walks closer to you,he walks slowly around you taking in the details of what you are. You are the same as the other one,a spider.

“What did you do to Miles”you hiss out through your teeth trying to look intimidating at the figure,the figure let out a whistle as he stands infront of you. “Calm down,heh it’s not that you can do anything without your web no?”He reply with a clear smug.

“I can take you down just fine with or without the web”you glare at the mask,the stupid neon mask that is mocking you. “Maybe you open that stupid mask of yours so I can fuck your face up like a pulp”

The guy chuckle before saying “You first little spider”he reaches his hand on top of your head gripping your mask. You try to move away your head but its useless as the figure rip your mask off revealing your face glaring at him.

Him on the other hand,didn’t expect to see such face staring back at him. The fire in your eyes staring right into his soul, it sparks something in him. He take a good look of how your lips are shaped,how your hair framing your face. He is stunned,shame that you,re with ‘him’.

“Open yours,what you’re scared now?”you taunting him when you see him just staring at you. The guy chuckle before he open his mask looking at you with a smirk on his lips.

“Miles…?”

(To be continued…)

yall can come and start a riot on me

Tag list:

@valovesyou @thymom696969 @k-koichi-i @stuckinaoaktree @lovefks @cookieswithay @gayschlatt69 @collaps3r @marrymezombie @ruruisasimp @madz-rulez @mikeikax @libra207 @sakura-onesan @jasontoddsfavoritechair @shyflover-9 @heylosers06 @pturnersblog @randomhumans-blog @keylozinzazane @ok-boke @corpsebridenightamare @kurheahea @ivorycrow19 @anitatvd @hana-yuri @syuriaf @weasleybuns @bluebear142077 @agustdeeyaa @horandog1993 @friendly-reject @ifharbingerbad--whyhot @dodoshona @notahappystan @aspenreadsfanfic @bluevenus19

#miles morales x reader #miles morales fanfiction #miles morales x y/n #spiderman across the spiderverse #miles morales #prowler miles

[bigfatbreak]

more mlp au dumps

3 am palette cleanser. tis the season

additional fun for my dorky ass twibra au... twilight's friends mimic the elements of harmony in a way that reflects the magic of their pony selves (bc I said so lmao) and it's what brings her back from the brink after principal cinch grenade tosses her little magical collector in her face and blasts her with equestrian magic

details:

Chrysalis represents generosity specifically because of how she's selfish on behalf of her friends. she's absolutely willing to dupe other people and manipulate them if she thinks it'll help out anyone in the squad, even if the fallout could be cataclysmic. This has led to a really bad reputation following her around, and though its not really unprecedented, her friends still keep her around as she means well. It's a bit hard training her out of fawning over other people to try and make them stay, but she just wants everyone well-fed and happy.

Stygian has the loyalty blessing because he's the real ride or die. He would rather physically staple himself to his friends than possibly lose them, especially since he was subject to losing a friend group in the past which left him deserted at a really bad time. Meeting Tempest around that time was the only thing that kept him going, and now he's fiercely protective of his new friend group.

Spike is laughter because I love him. puppy power

Tempest gets honesty because she's extremely blunt, even though sometimes its to the point of insulting, she genuinely just wants communication to be established at any cost. Her straightforward attitude is very effective at stopping Chryssie's schemes and keeping Stygian grounded, and she doesn't mind being an anchor for the team, especially since she used to be team captain on her volleyball team before she lost her arm. The sense of "these people need me" helps anchor her as much as it anchors them.

Sombra can be exceedingly kind, showering people in gifts and lavish trips, assisting them in whatever programs they're in, and he's more than willing to put the effort in and sacrifice things of his own if it means his friends will benefit from it - but it stops there. His kindness is wonderful only to those in his close circle, and most importantly, to Twilight.

though their dynamic sometimes isn't the healthiest, they're all recovering from friendship issues of their own - some done to them, some because of what THEY did to others - and Twilight's the precious sun they seem to rotate around, as being a shut-in only focusing on her studies has given her zero inclination to have any sort of preconceived notions of other people. For friends with a bad past they're trying to work through, its incredibly refreshing, and they would rather die than lose her.

even more additional details:

Sombra collects pretty minerals, and wears a lot of jewelry as a result. He often compares Twilight to precious stones and seems smug about dating her.

Tempest and Stygian are room mates, but they're not dating, sharing a purely platonic relationship. (Stygian is gay and Tempest is a lesbian. they're each other's beards, basically)

Chryssie lives in an apartment Sombra pays the rent to, but only under the agreement that she stop dating people just to raid their houses. It's worked so far, at least according to CCTV footage

once the magic Twilight absorbed disperses into the team, giving them magic, Spike gets dragon attributes along with being able to talk. This means sometimes he eats Sombra's fancy gemstones and there's absolutely nothing he can do about it because if he yells at his gf's dog/little brother he'll get smacked. Sombra is in hell but everyone else loves it

#twibra #mlp fim #my art #basically they're a frankengroup of friends who were kicked out of other friend groups #so they've become more powerful than u can imagine

[tiyoin]

so i just watched hazbin hotel ep 7 preview...

(this is a continuation of heaven reader)

alastor using angel reader for a larger, grander scheme than vaggie thought.

maybe he didn't give a shit about you at all? what if he was using you as a rook piece.

or maybe...

he was willing to flip the scales just to have you in his maleficent grasps.. maybe you were important for another reason she'd never be able to imagine. not even in her most wildest dreams.

there's a primal fear that claws at the back of veggies brain, before it quickly chills and numbs the front of her brain whenever she thought about you.

she scrapped her mind to try and remember you: yet you were no where to be found.

that has to do with alastor somehow.

and alastor....

he doesn't care to decipher his feelings. doesn't bother to answer any questions about you in detail. instead he sang a song about how in 'love' you two were in when alive.

of course vaggie spoke up, always there to pop whatever bubble he put into everyone's, (not like they fully believed him) especially charlie's mind

"even so, you have your own problems to worry about. isn't that right, miss vag"

"vagg" she sneered turning away to go tend to her problem.

and yet, whenever alastor is seated at the chess board, pieces already at war. his hand always seems to linger on one of the white rooks.

eyeing it eerily with one of his infamous smiles, he takes the black's rook and strikes down the white's. this left a hole in the white's strategy as he moved his piece away from danger.

clenching the dead rook in his hand, he tightened his grip and his smile before discarding the piece with the other dead soldiers into the fire pit. all alastor knew is that he wanted everything to slip, crumble, and fall into chaos.

he wants to see friends betrayed, families die, lives get ruined. and as much carnage that it would take centuries to clean up.

he wants complete and utter pandemonium.

he laughed viciously at the fire. and with a wave of his hand all the pieces were in starting positions brand spanking new. yet he made sure the rook was burnt on its crown.

alastor mused to himself "what's the best kind of chaos?"

picking up the burnt rook again, alastor moved it first.

his jaw clenched and his eyes grinned as he heard a commotion downstairs, charlies voice on top.

the best kind is when you're able to physically kneel into the ground and plant its invasive seed yourself.

right into heavens impenetrable gates.

and right in your graceful, little, hands

he thought, grabbing his cane before standing up. he gave one last look to the chess board, to the rook, before he and his shadow vanished.

-

not edited, hell, not even proofread. I literally wrote this, then posted

if I write more of angel reader x shithead alastor then ill make a tag el oh el

alastor's such a little shit I LOVE him

#tiyoin 🔎 #idk #didn't mean for this to be long but I couldn't stop myself lol #this is actually my second attempt. at first I was going to wait until the episode to air cause I like to keep things canonical #but I couldn't help myself hehe #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader #alastor my love #hazbin vaggie #charlie hazbin hotel #vaggie hazbin hotel #yandere alastor #yandere alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin spoilers #vivziepop